The Butterfly Effect

My eyes strain to open as I push through to complete the butterfly stroke to the other end of the pool. However, there’s too much churn in the water created by my young arms, as well as from the wave that keeps overwhelming me. I finally stop, emerge heaving, and, while treading water, I exclaim to my teacher in my 10-year-old awe, “That is hard!”

Almost 20 years later, my eyes struggle to open again, and although I’m not underwater, it certainly feels like it. Her tiny newborn, raspy cry has begun yet again. My husband stirs in his sleep next to me, as his fatherly subconscious has sensed her need, too. My mind directs my body when it yells “Get up!”, but my body does not listen. It is tired and weak. I remember previous — namely, childless — sleepless nights and races run, and confirm once again, that nothing compares to this new kind of “hard.”

My body finally obeys, and I peer over the bassinet at my squirming baby, whose mind and body are also battling with each other — need over sleep. Somehow, as a creation of the Father Himself, my nurturing arms find the strength to embrace her for the fifteenth time that night and meet those tiny — albeit, life-giving — needs.

Now, my tiny daughter’s body and mind battle other challenges in her 2-year-old world. Much to my own anguish or entertainment (and some days, both), I see the frustration in her heart when something will not go her way. I carefully try to explain such laws of nature that do not allow her to have the light in her room turned both on and off at the same time. I’m thankful that sleep is more abundant these days, as these principles are much more complex when met with a “Why?” from a small-voiced girl.

“Yes, why?” my soul whispers to my Father — but not about the laws of nature, rather, the laws of motherhood. As soon as I’m comfortable with one milestone, my daughter’s on to the next. I’m scrambling to compensate for those teaching moments that were lost before they were known, and especially for my own patience that expired at the onset of her very first, “No.”

The world does not seem to wait for me to catch up, either.

Last year, I greeted her first Mother’s Day Out teachers with trepidation and then, finally, trust. But, then, this year began with the preschool director sharing the news that our children had graduated to the pick up/drop off line. I did not gasp then, but only because I, like so many others, knew beforehand and had dissected our concerns about it over play dates and popsicles all summer long. How were our children — namely, us — going to get through this newness that never seemed to let up?

That monumental day, my mind tells my body to “Pull it together!”, but it’s too late for my tears that already leave my eyes after driving off. Her “Bye, Mommy!” echoes in my heart. This kind of thing happens everyday, to every mother, I rationalize to myself. But today, for me, nothing compares to this new kind of hard.

These moments always seem to transport me back as a scrawny 10-year-old splashing and gulping through the butterfly stroke for the first time. I pull and push my arms down to feel the wave my efforts have created rush over my head. I gather a breath, and push down again. The harder I push, the bigger the wave is that crashes above me.

In those times of impossible strength as a mother, I think of that wave, but this time, it’s God, who comes over me after my efforts are in motion. While I push in faith, He overwhelms me with strength for the next milestone. Where I end, He fills in the gaps as easily as water rushing between rocks.

As I swim through each newness, other mothers before me assure that the current ahead is even stronger, and the rapids are not going to let up. Teenage years, dating, college, and more loom before me as inevitable obstacles. But, thankfully, His Word is there, too, as David says in the Psalms, “I look behind me and You’re there, then up ahead and You’re there, too — Your reassuring presence, coming and going” (Psalm 139:5).

Like that wave, His presence comes and goes, projecting strength as I push to the next challenge. My arms can get tired at times, but knowing that He’s there, waiting to envelope me, keeps me going. I sympathize with the shell-shocked looks of new mothers who, while holding their little bundles of joy, lean toward me in wary confidence to exclaim, “This is hard!”

I wish I had some wise words of comfort, like “it gets easier,” although I don’t really believe that — it gets better, not easier. I also don’t have any secrets, other than what trial and error have proven. I sometimes flounder around as much as they might, while gripping on to the promise that the next wave of God’s strength is just around the corner. But, then, I remember what I need to do — what they need to do — to get to the next milestone. It’s a simple, but essential thing to do in those desperate moments, those times just before the Spirit rushes over us: Remember to breathe.

With a trunk full of journals, essays, and otherwise good story ideas, Alison couldn't deny the fact when she left every morning for a fast-paced job in marketing and advertising that she was missing one of her favorite pastimes: writing. But after a client offered her the opportunity to practice this hobby professionally, she took it, and since then, Alison has embraced writing as a life-long calling from God. Now a pastor's wife to Brandon and stay-at-home mom, the time to write is not as available, but the inspiration to is abundant as she rediscovers God's creation and joys along with her children.

When Doing Justly, Loving Mercy, and Walking Humbly Stand at Odds

One of my life verses is Micah 6:8, “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

It is one of my favorite verses because my heart has been so moved by the love Jesus has for me and the sacrifice He made for me that I am grateful to have a way to express my gratitude through acts of justice and mercy while walking humbly with God.

I have found at times, however, the call to do justice and love mercy come in conflict with the call to walk humbly with God. For me, one of the ways to walk humbly with God is to recognize my limitations. I have to put skin to the fact that I am not God which means saying, “no” to ministry requests. It means going to sleep when I could be spending time advocating for the harrowed and helpless in the world. It means limited seats at my table, limited funds in my bank account, and limited energy in my body cannot be ignored but respected and adhered to.

This is hard for me at times, especially when I scroll my Facebook feed and see friends who are caring for their really sick children, spouse, or other family member all while millions of refugees flee war torn countries and babies are slaughtered by the hundreds each day in our country through the abortion industry.

As I scroll, I receive texts about one family member’s surgery gone wrong and another family member announcing a new baby is on the way. I have in mind my neighbor who has inpatient surgery scheduled this week and another neighbor who is trying to hold down a full-time job, care for twins all while battling profound “morning” sickness.

Folks at church are fighting for their lives in physical and spiritual ways, and strangers who pass me on the road are clearly battling something as demonstrated by their impatient honking because I won’t take a right turn on red. I want to meet the needs of all; I want to do justice and love mercy, but I’m daily confronted by the fact that I am so limited.

What am I to do when doing justly and/or loving mercy seem to come in conflict with walking humbly with my God?

God keeps bringing me to this answer: prayer.

God invites us to cast our cares before Him because He cares for us.
God tells us to be anxious for nothing BUT WITH PRAYER present our requests before Him.
God commands us to pray without ceasing.

And, when I walk humbly with God, I see the immense kindness in His command.
He gives us a way to do justly, love mercy WHILE walking humbly with Him.
It is by praying without ceasing.

I cannot take a meal or give money to every sick person or family I know. I cannot extend kindness to all my neighbors all at the same time they’re in need nor conjure up sustainable solutions for the refugee crisis and contact all the necessary world powers to make it happen.

I cannot heal all, but I know the Healer.

I cannot provide for all the needs, but I know the Provider.

I cannot rescue everyone in need, but I know the Rescuer.

I cannot comfort all the broken, but I know the Comforter.

I cannot speak peace over every situation, but I know the Prince of Peace.

I cannot be all to all, but I can go to the Great I Am through prayer, lay all the people, problems and pleas for help before the Omniscient and Omnipresent God of all Creation.

I can do this through prayer.

Recently, via an Instagram contest of all things, I came upon A–Z prayer cards designed by blogger/author/speaker, Amelia Rhodes. It is a simple concept packed with a powerful prayer punch. It has served me personally in this tension of wanting to do far more than I practically can do. It provides prayer prompts starting with each letter of the alphabet along with a scripture that coincides with the prayer focus. It ranges from Adoption to a creative “Zero Prejudice” for the letter “Z.”

The cards are well thought out, color printed on sturdy cardstock with blank lines for the user to write in the names of people and/or organizations that are personal to them.

If, like me, your compassion far exceeds your capacity, pick up a set of these prayer cards and unload your burdens onto a God whose competence matches His kindness, both boundless.

And now, holding my second-born daughter in my arms, thinking back on that brief exchange just a few years ago, I realize those fears were well-founded. I’ve failed many times. I’ve lost my temper. I’ve raised my voice. I’ve worked too much and played too little. I’ve seen my own sinfulness reflected in my daughter.

Yes, I’ve failed, but over and above it all, God’s grace has covered my parenting imperfections and made me run to the cross day after day. The writer of Proverbs puts it this way:

Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.
Proverbs 14:26

When it comes to fears, we have two choices: Will we fear the unknown or will we fear the Lord? Will we allow the uncertain to grip us in its clutch or will we turn to God’s Truth to set us free?

Scared? Oh yeah. There was so much to be scared of that day. And even now, if I’m completely honest, there are still fears nibbling at the edges of my consciousness. Fear that we won’t outgrow the temper tantrums. Fear that the two girls won’t get along. Fear that I’ll mess them up and cause them interminable hours on a psychologist’s couch.

I’m sure you have fears, too.

But rather than allow those fears to consume and paralyze us, we can take them to the Lord, acknowledging His sovereignty over our parenting, pleading His grace over our mistakes, and entrusting His provision over their futures. He is not only able to handle it all — He is far more capable to be trusted with it all.

If I say one thing to that frightened 9-month-pregnant me standing in that room years ago, I would say this: Don’t let fear rob today’s joy with tomorrow’s unknowns. Each day has enough worries of its own (Matthew 6:34).

Instead, let us keep seeking God, running to Him as our secure fortress and resting in the knowledge that He will care for us and our children one day at a time.

What are you scared of today? Name your fears and bring them to the Lord, allowing Him to replace them with His peace that passes all understanding.

He Gives Shade To The Weary

Do you ever have those moments of fear because you don’t know what lies ahead? When do those thoughts tend to happen to you?

For me, most of those thoughts happen when I lay my head down to sleep at night. The vulnerability comes forth every time. That’s what happened the other night to me. I shut my eyes and immediately anxiety welled up inside me.

What if we don’t succeed in this new venture? What if we have to move? What if we can’t pay our bills?

I laid there with the covers drawn tight over my head (I still think that I am safer if the covers are over my head), praying scripture over my anxious heart. Assuring myself that God sees me and that He cares.

In the morning, I turned to Isaiah 41, specifically verses 10-20.

“Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10, NASB)

Yesterday, the “what if’s” piled up as I anxiously looked about me. My daughter needs tutoring, however at this point in life, tutoring feels like a luxury we can’t afford. So I listed some items online to sell hoping to make just enough to cover the tutoring. I’m buying groceries on a Visa reward card. I’m holding my breath until the next paycheck comes. But what did God speak over me: Do not fear. Do not look anxiously about you.

“For I am the Lord your God, who upholds your right hand, Who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’ Do not fear, you worm Jacob, you men of Israel; I will help you,” declares the Lord, “and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.” (Isaiah 41:13-14 NASB)

Why shouldn’t I be anxious? Because God will hold me up. God will help me. When I first read the word “worm” as a description, I took it as a slam against Israel. Like, gesh, God. What animal does He relate me to? But through further study, He calls them a worm because worms are helpless. They are viewed as insignificant, despised and weak. God will help me — seemingly insignificant, helpless me — because He is my Redeemer. He is my go’el — my next of kin. The Redeemer is the one who provides for all my needs. Rent. Car payment. Credit card bill. Gas. Food. Clothes. Debt. God will redeem.

“Behold, I have made you a new, sharp threshing sledge with double edges; You will thresh the mountains and pulverize them, And will make the hills like chaff. You will winnow them, and the wind will carry them away, And the storm will scatter them; But you will rejoice in the Lord, You will glory in the Holy One of Israel.” (Isaiah 41:15-16 NASB).

God is transforming me from a helpless one to a powerful one. The description of that type of threshing sledge is like a modern day earth mover. Powerful. Strong. Immovable.

“The afflicted and needy are seeking water, but there is none, And their tongue is parched with thirst; I, the Lord, will answer them Myself, As the God of Israel I will not forsake them.” (Isaiah 41:17, NASB)

He will come to our rescue. God, Himself, will answer you and me. Can you hear how personal that sounds? Have you ever pleaded with someone important whether your boss, public figure, or even a parent, and they responded to the need themselves? You expected for them to send their assistant, but instead they — the most important one — responded to you.

“I will open rivers on the bare heights And springs in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water And the dry land fountains of water. I will put the cedar in the wilderness, The acacia and the myrtle and the olive tree; I will place the juniper in the desert Together with the box tree and the cypress.” (Isaiah 41:18-19, NASB)

This passage describes the wilderness-like times in life. You are barren. You are thirsty. You are hot. You are in need. God will provide what you need. God will quench your thirst. He will provide shade when you are weary. During those times, God can provide in creative, innovative ways. He can provide something out of nothing. Doesn’t that give you great hope? Even when you can’t answer how He will do it, He is creative enough to figure it out even when the odds are stacked against you.

“That they may see and recognize, And consider and gain insight as well, That the hand of the Lord has done this, And the Holy One of Israel has created it.” (Isaiah 41:20 NASB).

God will do all of this so that His glory will be put on display. People — including yourself — will see that He is powerful.

So you can see how after a night of wrestling with fear and anxiety, reading this was like shade and water for my soul. God is a god who sees. And God is a god who acts on your behalf.

What do you need His help with today? What are you fearful about today? What keeps you awake at night? Where do you need some shade?

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Hi, I'm Ashleigh Slater, founder and editor of Ungrind. Here at Ungrind, it’s our goal to churn out biblically-based encouragement for women. We strive to be honest and transparent about our struggles in a way that inspires hope, faith, and perseverance.

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